25. Maeve

Iset down my bags on the table in the Great Hall. Luckily, Crookshollow had a reputation for being the most haunted village in England (apparently, over two hundred witches were burned during the height of the witch trials – a bit of a sobering thought considering who I lived with), which meant that the local tourist shops sold ghost-hunting equipment that was actually semi-decent.

I wasn’t hunting ghosts, of course, but it would monitor fae and wormhole activity just as well.

“Do you want help setting these up?” Flynn asked, pointing an EMF meter at Arthur and making a ‘woo woo’ noise.

“No,” I grabbed the meter out of his hand. “I want you all to tell me what’s really going on.”

Flynn glared at Corbin, who looked miserable. He leaned against the doorframe, as if he intended to make a quick escape. Rowan perched on the end of the sofa, his big, kind eyes following me with an expression I could best describe as awe.

Arthur moved toward the bar, but I held up a hand. “No drinks. This isn’t a celebration. I want the full story, right now. You guys haven’t been straight with me.”

“We’ve been completely honest with you?—”

“No, you haven’t.” I glared at Corbin, who stared at a spot just beyond my shoulder. “You said you recognize me because your lawyer sent you a picture. But that’s not true. When we spoke to Emily yesterday, she didn’t recognize me. And today, Blake spoke my name. He knows me. And…“ I paused, hoping I’d be able to talk about this without revealing exactly what happened. “He’s seen my dreams.”

“What?” Corbin looked shocked. “That’s not…that doesn’t mean…”

I folded my arms. “I’m done with half truths and this ‘you’re not ready’ nonsense. I want the full story, unabridged, footnotes included. Go.”

“What were these dreams about?” Corbin demanded.

My cheeks flared with heat. “I’m asking the questions here.”

Arthur looked up, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind his ear. For a warrior, he looked almost sheepish. “Are these dreams about all of us in the Great Hall, um…together? You and me and Corbin and Rowan and that Irish git and…Blake?”

My face burned. “How…how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve had the same dream, a couple of times actually.”

Corbin stared at his friend. “And you never thought to mention it?”

Arthur’s kind eyes flashed with annoyance. “I didn’t know anyone else was having it! I didn’t exactly think it was polite to tell our landlady that I was dreaming about her being the center of a sixsome?—”

“How do we know it was the same dream, though?” Corbin said. “Maybe you’re just having similar feelings, because of the kiss and?—”

“In the last one, all the furniture was gone, and you were on a red-velvet couch, wearing a silky robe,” Arthur said to me, the tips of his own ears turning a little red.

I nodded, my cheeks burning.

This is not happening.But it was. Arthur continued. “We were parading around you, completely naked. Corbin tore the robe off, and I was the one who was?—”

“I had the dreams, too.” Rowan’s quiet voice strained. He stared at his hands, his fingers drumming a repetitive rhythm against his palm.

My cheeks burned even brighter.

How the hell was this possible?

And why did it have to be those dreams Arthur and Rowan saw?

“So why haven’t Flynn and I had these dreams?” Corbin demanded.

“Actually…” Flynn lifted his hand. “I think I might’ve been in on that second one, with the…ah, parade? I thought it was just my filthy mind. I love you mate, but I’d prefer if you didn’t touch me bollix like that.”

“So why haven’t I had any of these dreams, then?” Was it my imagination, or did Corbin sound a little jealous?

“You were up late in the library,” I said. “I remember the light being on last time I woke up. I think we all have to be asleep at the same time. Blake seemed to believe they were my dreams and I pulled him into them, but how I did that I have no idea.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“For god”s sake, Corbin, because I thought it was just a dream. This is supposed to be my interrogation. Start talking, now.”

Corbin rubbed the side of his head, his usual controlling demeanor gone. He looked like someone had just slapped him across the face. A flash of guilt hit me before I remembered that he lied to me, and I pushed it down.

“Okay, okay,” he sighed. “It was going to come out sooner or later. We wanted to protect you for as long as possible. But this dream thing confirms it.”

“Protect me from what?”

“From yourself,” Corbin’s face strained. “Maeve, you’re a witch. And not just any witch. You’re a spirit user. You’re probably the most powerful witch currently alive in England, and the only one capable of holding off the threat of the fae.”